


a most fur-midable opponent

by sseagully



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Cat tendencies, Chat Noir has a rival, Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Getting Together, Identity Reveal, Marichat | Adrien Agreste as Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Not Canon Compliant, Partial Identity Reveal, Territorial Chat Noir
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:20:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26449924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sseagully/pseuds/sseagully
Summary: Chat Noir visits Marinette's balcony one night, only to discover he has a new rival.Meanwhile, Marinette cannot stop laughing.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Comments: 64
Kudos: 639





	a most fur-midable opponent

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fictionalinfinity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictionalinfinity/gifts).



> A very belated birthday gift to the wonderful [fictionalinfinity.](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictionalinfinity/pseuds/fictionalinfinity)
> 
> I'm sorry this is so late, I really hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Big thank you to [SilverMoonSky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverMoonSky/pseuds/SilverMoonSky) for giving me some tips on what to write.

“That was a long day, huh?” Tikki asks as soon as Marinette says goodnight to her parents and enters her bedroom. After helping out in the bakery during the Sunday afternoon rush, Marinette feels tired and sore, but also content; she takes a few minutes to stretch out her aching arms and back before slumping into her desk chair with a sigh.

“You’re going to work more?” her kwami asks worriedly. “Maybe you should take a shower and go to bed early.”

“I’ll be okay, Tikki,” Marinette replies, picking up her latest project: a pair of black fingerless gloves that she’d meticulously knitted by hand. They’re close to completion, only the embroidery design is left to add that special little touch. “I’ve been wanting to work on these all day. It’s more fun than stress for me, I promise.”

“Well, alright.”

Appeased, Tikki settles herself on the desk with Marinette’s phone, swiping with her paws to get to her favorite mobile game, Cookie Jam. Opening her desk drawer, Marinette begins fishing out the supplies she needs, combing through her options carefully until she finds the perfect colored thread for her plans. She pulls out the spool and shows it to Tikki, who gives an enthusiastic nod of approval. Then, she sets to work.

Not even ten minutes later, several loud knocks from above startle Marinette into dropping the needle, rolling right off her desk and landing somewhere on the floor. Luckily, it’s strung with a bright green thread, so it’s easy enough to spot and retrieve — no risk of accidental prickings later on, thank goodness.

“Is that —” Marinette asks.

“Seems so,” Tikki says.

Another round of knocking hits the hatch above her bed, echoing down into her bedroom.

“Hide, Tikki,” she whispers, before calling out more loudly: “I’m coming!”

Her kwami races over to lay a delicate peck on Marinette’s check before zipping away to the little hideaway cubby they had made for her underneath the chaise. “Be careful, Marinette!” she calls as she goes, punctuating the warning with a giggle so Marinette knows she’s just being playful.

Carefully setting aside her project, Marinette grabs her phone and takes a quick detour over to her mirror to fuss at her loose hair and her sweater, which is rucked up around her waist. She pauses after a moment and makes a face at her own reflection.

“What are you doing?” Marinette mutters to herself. “Primping? For _Chat Noir_? Stop making this weird.”

Unable to help herself, she does one last lookover — finds one stray bit of hair and tucks it neatly behind her ear — before heading up to the rooftop. As she emerges from the hatch, she catches a glimpse of Chat Noir staring off into the city skyline, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips. The long dark line of him leans trustingly against the railing, loose and at peace, his tail swishing lazy figure eights behind him.

Unbidden, the memory of his first real visit to her balcony, Glaciator and Papa Garou incidents aside, springs to mind. The image of his tense, uncertain posture then in juxtaposition with his contented sprawl now tugs powerfully at her heart strings. Her face feels a tad bit warm all of a sudden, but she stubbornly ignores it, not wanting to go down that train of thought.

(It’s a well-worn train of thought in all honesty and she knows it leads nowhere good. Down that way lies impossible dreams and scenarios that Marinette — Ladybug — _the Guardian_ — can’t ever entertain. No. It’s best to leave it be.)

“Good evening,” Chat Noir says, breaking her out of her spiralling thoughts. He flashes her a bright grin, tail perking up and picking up speed as his effervescent green eyes meet hers.

“G-good evening,” she replies, helpless to do anything but smile back.

“It’s been a while since I last visited. At least a few weeks. Did you miss me horribly, Marinette?” Chat teases.

“Not as much as you think,” she lies. “And definitely not as much as you missed my Papa’s pastries, I bet.”

Right on cue, a loud, strange rumble fills the air. Marinette watches in delight as a pretty pink color seeps out from under the edges of his mask, slowly filling the apples of his cheeks. His clawed hands drop quickly to his stomach, as if to hide the offending noise somehow.

“You may have got me there,” he says with a wry chuckle.

“Let me grab some snacks from downstairs. Be back in a few?”

Chat looks at her with wide eyes, their vivid color a stark contrast against the backdrop of swirling reds and oranges and purples making up the sunset sky behind him. She tries to remind herself to breathe.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to cause any trouble...”

Marinette ignores his half-hearted protest and points demandingly at her outdoor chaise. “Sit.” He quickly does as bidden. She smirks. “Good boy. Now, stay put till I come back.”

Chat blinks, snorts, then kicks back with arms behind his head and long, long legs stretched out and crossed at the ankle. “Alright then. Don’t have to convince me twice!”

“Lazy cat,” she mutters fondly as she heads downstairs. The apartment below is quiet and cozy, dark but for a few lamps lit up in the living room. Her parents are out, having decided to dine at the new bistro a few blocks over after a hard day’s work. They’d asked Marinette along but honestly, leftovers and some hot tea in her room had sounded more her speed at the time. Now with her visitor lounging up on her rooftop, she feels doubly glad at her choice to stay home. It feels a little bit like fate has intervened on her behalf.

In the kitchen, she sets up the kettle to boil so she can mix up some instant cocoa. As that gets ready, she grabs a plastic platter from the cabinets and piles on the treats: chocolate croissants, sugar cookies, coffee-flavored eclairs, and a few raspberry macarons she’d filched for herself before closing. She even heats up a healthy slice of quiche Lorraine, just in case he might want something more savory.

At every piece of food Marinette grabs, a warm bubbly feeling fizzes pleasantly in her stomach as she imagines Chat eating each bite. He has a cute tendency to close his eyes when eating something delicious, like he’s trying to savor the moment and enjoy it to its fullest. Always appreciative, always enthusiastic, always supportive.

Honestly, it’s a wonder it’s taken her this long to —

“Ahh, no, Marinette,” she cries with a sharp shake of her head. She pulls out her phone and turns on one of her favorite Jagged albums, hoping that the music will clear her mind a bit as she finishes preparing their snacks. She continues to bustle around the kitchen, gathering up their cutlery and napkins; by the time the cocoa is mixed and poured into a proper thermos, Marinette is humming along to _Rock Attacks Back_ and feeling a little less frazzled, a little bit more centered.

She tucks the thermos into the crook of her elbow and grabs the platter in both hands, carefully making her way back upstairs. As she pops her head up through the balcony hatch, a surprising sight nearly makes her drop everything right onto her bedspread.

Chat is no longer reclining on the lounger as she’d left him. He’s fit himself into the far corner of her balcony, shoulders a sharp, tense line and the expression on his face not much better. His posture looks defensive, but at the same time, exaggerated — like he’s trying to take up as much space in his corner as possible.

Marinette has never seen him quite like this before, and that’s including akuma attacks. She hurries to put the treats and drinks down on her small wooden table, concern growing each second he stays uncharacteristically silent.

“Chat...?” she asks tentatively, wonderingly.

She then follows his intense, unwavering stare back over to the outdoor chaise. Marinette’s lungs constrict and her stomach lurches when she finally discovers the problem.

“What,” Chat rasps, brow furrowed heavily, “is _that_?”

“Mew! Mew mraow!” says the cat splayed happily across Chat’s previous seat.

“That’s Cat Meow,” Marinette says, lips twitching. It takes all of her Ladybug grit and steel to keep herself from cracking up.

“C-cat Meow?” Chat sputters. He edges out of his corner and back towards the chair, leaning in to peer at the orange tabby like it’s some kind of unsolvable puzzle — only to rear back in surprise as Cat Meow hisses loudly in his face. He nearly unbalances himself in his attempt to pull back, arms windmilling furiously as he fights to regain his equilibrium.

The affronted look on his face is priceless. Marinette can’t hold back any longer; she doubles over and laughs so hard her stomach hurts, the kind of laughter that somehow fuels itself, keeping it going for way longer than it should.

“Are you done yet?” Chat asks dryly after a few minutes, boot tapping impatiently.

Marinette straightens from her slouch and swipes at her eyes, trying to bat away the few tears that have formed there. She turns the full wattage of her smile back on Chat Noir and watches as the droop in his ears and the furrow around his brows disappear, his eyes sparkling, mouth quirking into a toothy grin — as if he is absorbing her joy and reflecting it right back to her tenfold.

“Well, are _you_ done feeling threatened by a cat?” Marinette moves over to the tabby and uses both hands to rub at the feline’s neck and face. In response, Cat Meow purrs loudly and pushes into the contact, eyes closed for maximum delight. Not unlike how Chat looks when he eats food from the Dupain-Cheng bakery, actually.

Chat’s demeanor takes on a tinge of confusion. “You know, I always thought I liked cats,” he says with a sheepish ruffle of his hair. Leaning back against her balcony railing, mouth twisted as he thinks hard, he points a clawed finger at Cat Meow. “But for some reason, I _really_ don’t like you,” he finishes, pouting petulantly.

“Oh, come on,” Marinette says, scooping Cat Meow up into her arms and ignoring Chat’s scowl. “What’s not to love?” She picks up one of the cat’s paws and flops it up and down in a wave. Cat Meow blinks once, twice, then yawns.

“Well, one, I don’t appreciate the name,” Chat starts, ticking off a finger.

Marinette snorts.

“I’m serious! He doesn’t even look like me!”

“Well, yes, Chat. Because you’re a human and she’s a cat,” she teases.

“ _Still_! She’s not even black or anyth — did you just say ‘she’?”

Marinette purses her lips, trying to strike an innocent look. “Hm, did I?”

“You named your female stray cat after me,” Chat says slowly, working through the thought. He squints at her distrustfully. Frankly, he looks ridiculous with his face scrunched up that way; it breaks the tenuous control Marinette has only just regained over her laughter.

“Y-your face,” she cackles.

Frowning, Chat crosses his arms. “You’re horrible.”

“Come on, you should be flattered! Look, jokes aside, she started visiting my balcony right when you disappeared on me and —”

“I didn’t disappear,” he says in a grumble. “I just got really busy with work.”

Tilting her head, Marinette takes a moment to wonder what kind of job a person like Chat Noir might have. Perhaps he works at a store of some kind, or maybe as a tutor? Try as she might, she can’t quite imagine someone as energetic and cocksure as Chat in...well, in any ordinary job. He’s too larger than life, in her mind. She opens her mouth to ask for more details, then hesitates, realizing just how unfair it would be to ask him to share his personal information when she isn’t ready to do the same as Ladybug.

“Anyway,” she continues, swallowing back her original question, the words hitting her stomach hard. “She started showing up a few weeks back and seems to like hanging out here, I think because she enjoys sitting on the chair while being so high up. And since you stopped visiting around the same time, I figured she might be a good substitute until you came back.”

“You missed me that much?” Chat asks, tone awed and eyes soft. Somehow, without even trying, he’s able to cut right to the heart of what she’s saying. It's a little embarrassing.

“I just wondered where you had gone, that’s all,” Marinette replies, looking down to hide her flustered expression. She holds out Cat Meow and gestures for him to take her. “Here, why don’t you hold her now? She should get to know her namesake, after all.”

Yelping, Chat stumbles backwards, arms crossing over his chest. “What? No way!” He casts a stern glance at the contented, nearly boneless cat in her grip. “Absolutely not.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know!” Chat cries, waving his hands wildly. “It’s so weird! I swear I like animals, cats included, but right now, every fiber of my being is screaming _no, get away_!”

“Oh, so it’s a physical thing? Are you allergic to them, maybe?” she asks, setting Cat Meow back down on the chair. She swipes at her pink sweater, trying to casually pick off all the orange cat hair that had somehow accumulated in the past five minutes alone.

“No, thankfully, I’m only allergic to birds,” Chat says with a sigh. “Mainly pigeons. Ugh, pigeons.” He shudders.

Marinette puts a finger to her chin, pretending to think back. “Oh, yeah. I remember that Ladyblog post! Alya’s “Cute Chat Sneezes, Thank You M. Pigeon” compilation got a lot of views, you know.”

“Nooo, I hate that video,” Chat whines. “You actually watched it?”

“Watched it? I shared it on my social media, I’m pretty sure.”

“You — you traitor!”

Marinette tries not to giggle. Despite his words, when she meets his gaze again, he’s watching her fondly, a bright look on his face.

She hums thoughtfully. “You know, this reminds me...I actually made a bowler hat with a pigeon feather once. Maybe I should bring that out and hit you with you when you’re being mean to me.”

“Mean? When am I ever?”

“Um, all the time?” Marinette scowls. “You tease me constantly!”

“That’s just be _claws_ that’s how I show affection!”

Rolling her eyes, Marinette gives him an unimpressed look. “Gee, thanks, then.”

“You know you love it. Anyway, that's a nice try and all,” he says with a smirk, “but I already know you swapped the pigeon feather out for a fake one. So good luck getting that to work.”

The entire world expands and contracts in that moment. It feels like the entire universe zeroes in on his face, his voice, his words, and nothing else. “What did you just say?” Marinette hears herself asking from very far away. “How did you know I — who told you that? I only ever told Gabriel Agreste and —”

Gabriel Agreste and Alya, to be exact. And one other person, she realizes with incredulity.The model who wore the hat.

Adrien.

Adrien Agreste.

Adrien Agreste who is blond and green-eyed and super handsome and who wears a ring and _also has a feather allergy_.

Wincing, Chat gnaws at his lower lip, face pale. “...A lucky guess?” he tries.

Marinette tries not to panic. “Chat.”

“H-hm?”

“Chat!”

“What?” He turns away from her suddenly, shoulders hunching up to his ears, a posture so defensive, so ill at ease, it forcibly pulls her out of her shock and back into the moment. Heart aching, Marinette breathes deeply once, then once again, trying to steady herself.

“Adrien,” Marinette says.

His body language somehow gets even more stiff, becoming almost too painful to look at.

“It’s you, isn’t it.” Softening her tone, she tries again. “Adrien.”

She waits. Seconds go by, painfully dragging on into a minute. It feels like she lives a hundred lives in the interim.

“Yes,” Chat finally says, voice very, very quiet. “It’s me, Marinette.”

Tears spring to her eyes, the knowledge catching gently in the cage of her ribs, fluttering there delicately, like something to be treasured. Without permission, the tears build up faster than her eyes can hold them; they overflow and drip down her face messily, echoing the chaos in her heart.

Adrien is her Chat Noir.

Her brain suddenly kicks into overdrive. She thinks about all the time spent getting to know Adrien, crushing on him from afar, unable to even speak in his presence; all the time spent working with Chat Noir as Ladybug, building that special level of trust that she doesn’t have with anybody else, not even Alya. And how that connection ended up producing a tiny seedling the first time Chat visited her balcony, a seedling which has only sprouted and bloomed the more times he’s visited.

In this moment, all the concerns and fears that have been playing in a loop in her brain for the past few months screech to a halt. She has been so scared for so long, thinking that the removal of this last barrier between the two of them meant the difference between winning and losing. That the hero’s path to victory was laid out on a road of self-control and discipline, not built on lofty ideas like truth and vulnerability. By giving in, it was like giving up.

But she suddenly understands how wrong that mindset is. Perhaps it may be true for others and in other situations — but not for them. Because right now, standing on the precipice she has dreaded for so long, she feels no regret or shame. She feels the strongest she’s ever been, the most empowered, the most motivated.

Chat Noir has always told her that the two of them are enough to go against the whole world; for the first time, she truly gets what he means.

Hands shaking, she brings them up to her mouth to stifle her sobs. Cat Meow hops off the lounger to weave her way through Marinette’s legs, rubbing affectionately against her ankles.

“Marinette, I’m so sorry, I-I had no intention of telling you, I —” Chat gives her a heartbreaking look. He makes an aborted movement to reach out, to comfort, but can’t seem to bring himself to close that distance. “Please don’t cry, please don’t be mad at me, I —”

At that, Marinette can’t bear it any longer. She moves forward, stepping carefully around Cat Meow until the toes of their shoes touch. “I-I’m not mad, you silly cat,” she says.

Slowly, as if unsure of his welcome even with her pushing into his personal space, his arms come up around her. Warmth infuses her from head to toe as she feels the delicate beauty of his embrace, urging her to wrap her arms around him in return. She slips them around his trim waist, and the sensation of holding him — knowing he’s right there in front of her, knowing she is finally able to express the feelings she’d long been trying to suppress — gives her a rush so intense that not even yo-yo slinging above the brilliant city of Paris can compare.

“I’m not mad,” she says again, sniffling.

As softly as a butterfly's kiss, she feels Chat’s head lower until his chin settles gently on top of hers. He whispers, “Then why are you still crying, Princess?”

“Because,” she hiccups, “I’m in love with an idiot.”

“You — what?” Chat asks, dumbfounded.

“I can’t believe you revealed your identity to me because of that stupid bowler hat,” she says, wet laughter bubbling to the surface and pushing through the tears. “Of all the things…”

“You love me?” he asks faintly. Giggling uncontrollably, she borrows a move from Cat Meow and nuzzles into his collarbones and the strong curve of his neck.

“You love me,” he repeats. His grip on her grows stronger, more sure of itself. He clutches her tightly to his chest, picking her up off the ground; she sets her arms around his neck and lets her legs wrap around his waist instead, bringing them eye-to-eye. He’s beaming, nearly luminescent.

“Marinette, I-I love you too!”

His declaration breaks her heart and heals it simultaneously. It feels like she is at the threshold of something new and beautiful, while at the same time, like she’s returning home after a very long time away.

“I love you,” Chat tells her. “I really do. I-I have so much to tell you, that I want to say. I’ve been feeling this way for a long time, much longer than I ever wanted to admit. You make me so happy, Marinette.”

Too much. He is too much.

“Chat, can I just —” Marinette stops, flustered. “I mean, I would like to — would you mind if I—?”

“Whatever you want,” Chat says with a breathless laugh. “I really mean that. Whatever you — mmph!”

Leaning forward, Marinette tilts her head a bit and touches her lips to his wide smile. With the gentlest bit of pressure, she moves her mouth against his. Chat sucks in a deep breath, shuddering, one hand moving up to the back of her head as he tilts his own to reciprocate. His clawed fingers tap delicately against her scalp, pricking every single one of her senses and turning the dial up to eleven. Their kiss deepens, lips moving together firmly, a little bit awkwardly, and with an edge of sincerity so sweet, Marinette feels like every bone in her body is ready to dissolve into sugar and float away in the wind.

When they finally break to breathe, he looks at her like she’s a gift he can’t believe he gets to hold, let alone keep. His steady arms tighten around her further, which she didn’t think was possible, keeping her aloft in the beautiful nighttime sky like a star.

“Wow,” she breathes.

He echoes her. “ _Wow_.”

The blush from earlier has made a return on his face; she thumbs the edges of the pink color gently, reverently, letting her fingers then take a detour down the slope of his cheekbone and around the defined line of his jaw.

“Can you stay for a bit?” she asks shyly. “Maybe come downstairs and see my latest project? I-I think you’ll like it.”

“I would love to.”

The black fingerless gloves with the neon green cat paw embroideries seem like a silly gift now, in the face of what they’ve just shared. But Marinette doesn’t care about seeming silly in front of him anymore, not when he’s shown just how much he loves all sides of her, both Ladybug and Marinette alike.

“Er, though… You don’t let Cat Meow inside your room, do you?” Chat asks, aiming for casual and sounding anything but.

“Don’t worry, _mon chaton_ ,” Marinette says with a laugh. “My room is cat-free. You’ll be safe in there.”

“ _Purr_ fect,” he says, actually purring the first syllable like the biggest dork in Paris. “I need to make sure I’m the only cat in your life. Otherwise, I think I might cry.”

My dork, her heart says fiercely. Mine.

Her giddiness spurs her to say something a bit reckless. “I promise, you really have nothing to worry about. My ten year plan for our future only includes a hamster and three kids — no cats.”

“Ten year plan? Hamster? _Kids_?” For a moment, Marinette worries that it’s too much, that _she’s_ too much, but when she gathers the courage to look, she finds him starry-eyed and smiling dreamily. Helplessly, she falls in love with him again for the third time; she realizes she wants to fall in love with him a million times over by the time they’re old and gray.

“Come on inside and I’ll tell you all about it.” She smacks a kiss on his cheek, pulling out of his embrace and dropping back to the ground. “We’ll bring the snacks with us; you can detransform and feed Plagg while I feed Tikki.”

“That sounds wonderful. I really — Marinette, did you just say Tikki?!”

Marinette laughs again, coos a quick goodbye to Cat Meow, and tugs him towards the hatch.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, I hope the story treated you well! To anyone who may be reading my other two MLB WIPs...I promise to update them both very soon. Sorry for the delay!
> 
> If you have any interest in connecting with other MLB artists, writers, readers, etc., then please consider joining us on the [Miraculous Fanworks discord server!](https://discord.gg/mlfanworks) We hold monthly events, casual writing sprints and brainstorming sessions, promote our users' works, and much more!
> 
> Hope to see you all next time!


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